


Life should be so simple

by juana_a



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2010-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 04:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juana_a/pseuds/juana_a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At yet another party, Bruce and Gordon have a little bit too much to drink and discover that they share an embarrassing fantasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life should be so simple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gereiheimer](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gereiheimer).



This year is full of firsts. First day on a new job. First time he hates himself for doing the right thing. First Thanksgiving without Barbara and kids. First day of snow that passes and he doesn't take Jimmy and Babs out to the park, and they don't build a snowman together. And now, it's the first Christmas without the people he cares about, without Babs searching the house for presents and without Jimmy waiting eagerly for Santa Claus. The first Christmas without Barbara and a good morning kiss, without her saying 'Merry Christmas, Jim'.

He had thought about taking the shift on the day, but when he mentioned it to his assistant, she just looked at him and handed him a white envelope adorned with the Wayne Enterprises logo. He was pretty sure he had seen this envelope before, but it was still unopened. Ann's glare didn't invite any questions, so he just took it and walked away, muttering that they will talk about it later. She didn't answer. He knew that the discussion, such as it was, was over, and he wouldn't be taking the Christmas shift.

It was an invitation, of course. He supposed he should have expected that, it probably came with the commissioner job, but somehow he didn't. And he really didn't want to go to some stupid Christmas party. But he went. He still doesn't know why, exactly, but it may have something to do with this being his first Christmas on his own.

The party is just as boring as he expected. Well, fine, there was one interesting moment at the beginning. Wayne arriving late to his own party, top buttons of his shirt undone, flush on his face, a little bruise on his neck. His given excuse was troubles with his private jet that he was going to parachute from. Jim smirked, surprising himself by finding it actually funny. He's even slightly curious about whoever Wayne was spending his pre-party time with. It might be the effect of the omnipresent champagne, but in a way that's also interesting, whether Wayne, if he's having sex right before his party, is doing it in his bedroom, bathroom, or maybe any available vertical surface would be enough? And no, he doesn't want to think about Wayne having sex against a wall. Especially not now, with Wayne wearing that white shirt, no more than five steps away from him, smiling one of his perfect smiles.

"Commissioner Gordon," Wayne's voice is soft, sounds a little amused. Jim looks at him and he even tries to smile but it's not going too well. God, he really needs more alcohol. Even if he knows he has had too much already.

He doesn't even have time to answer because Wayne smiles (if it is possible to smile more, of course) and takes his empty glass. He is gone for a while and Jim wonders if he will be back and he isn't sure which option he would like more, but then he has a glass of whiskey in his hand and he thinks Wayne had to read his mind.

"Thanks," he says. His fingers tighten on the glass, the amber-coloured drink reflecting the lights.

"You're welcome," Wayne says and doesn't go away, he just stays there and looks at him with shiny, slightly hazy eyes. Jim remembers those eyes in the face of the little boy he met at the police station years ago, and knows he really shouldn't think about the little bruise on his neck but he can't help himself. Damn Bruce Wayne, damn Christmas party, damn champagne and damn Bruce Wayne. Yeah, again. "I need some fresh air," Wayne says, finally interrupting his thoughts and Gordon looks at him surprised.

"Yeah, fresh air," Jim says foolish but Wayne just shakes his head, as if he tries to clean his thoughts, and doesn't say anything. "Sounds good," Jim adds and drinks his whiskey.

Wayne goes straight to the balustrade and pours the champagne out. Gordon casts him a curious glance. Wayne's movement looks so normal and natural, as if he's done it on more than one occasion. Jim finds it surprisingly interesting. He never thought there was one thing in Bruce Wayne's life which could interest him and this is at least the second such thing in one evening.

He averts his eyes from Wayne and looks around. The terrace is probably bigger than his own apartment but he doesn't care. What he cares about is the view. He knows he will miss it. The air is cold and it should sober him enough so that he doesn't think about an empty glass between Wayne's long fingers but it doesn't.

"I drank too much," Wayne says and Jim is sure he noticed his curious glance. He lifts up his eyes but then Wayne cradles the glass between the tips his fingers and Jim can't stop himself from looking down. Wayne laughs softly. "It's cold," he looks surprised and this time Jim smirks.

"Well, it's December, isn't it?" he asks smiling. This party isn't as boring as he expected, after all.

"Come on, this terrace has another entrance," Wayne says and begins to head in that direction.

The room they come to is dark and quiet. They can hear the stifled sounds of the party through the slightly open door, but when Wayne closes it, the noise is shut out completely. Jim looks around. There is a desk with a mess slightly smaller than the one on his own desk, and he thinks it has to be Wayne's office. Once again, Jim finds himself surprised. Who will ever expect Bruce Wayne to have an office?

"Alfred is going to kill me," Wayne says quietly, putting his glass on the desk. A few sheets of paper flutter to the floor. He goes to the bar and is back with a glass of whiskey. Gordon raises his eyebrows.

"I thought you've had too much?" he mutters and Wayne grimaces, however Jim is not sure it's because of his words or because he takes a swig of whiskey and it burns his throat.

"Yeah, I have. I usually don't drink. But hell, it's the Christmas Eve. I don't like Christmas, you know. Of course, it doesn't mean Alfred is not going to kill me for that," he says and takes another swig. "Anyway, what are you doing here, Commissioner?" he asks sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. With his eyes half-closed, the top button of his shirt still undone, and his tie a little unfixed, Jim thinks he really shouldn't think earlier about Wayne having a sex against the wall. He clears his throat before he answers. "You invited me, remember?"

"Well, yeah, I did. But I didn't expect you'd come. Come on, you don't look like someone who's going on the billionaire playboy's party every Sunday. I'm surprised, that's all," he pauses and takes another swig. Jim unintentionally does the same. Wayne smiles a little, still not opening his eyes. "Honestly, Commissioner, why are you here?"

"I think the same reason you're drinking, Mr. Wayne," he answers and Wayne finally opens his eyes and looks at him carefully. "I don't like Christmas this year."

Wayne just nods. They're silent for a while, sipping their drinks slowly. Wayne grimaces after every swig, and it's another thing Jim finds really funny. And yeah, he can see Wayne shouldn't drink more, he shouldn't either, but hell, who cares, anyway?

And then Wayne says something Jim doesn't expect. It surprises him, but it makes him a little annoyed. Or maybe he's annoyed _because_ it surprises him. He isn't sure.

"She liked Christmas, you know?"

"Who?" he asks, just a little confused. He gets it in the same time when Wayne says "Rachel". He rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on. It isn't time for this. Drink your whiskey and think about something funny."

Wayne looks at him suspiciously for a moment and then he smiles and giggles. Jim lifts his brows and Wayne starts to laugh. It is so rich and honest and Jim hasn't heard his laugh like that in a long time. Wayne puts his glass on the floor to wipe his tears. Gordon smiles.

"I'm sorry," Wayne says apologetically. "It's just, you know, it's your tie," he giggles again and Jim thinks he can believe that Wayne doesn't usually drink. He can't decide what's worse, Wayne burning down his Manor or this infernal giggling.

"What with my tie?" he asks not even looking at it, he looks at Wayne trying not to smile.

"Nothing," Wayne waves his hand but he still can't stop laughing.

"Yeah, I can see that," Gordon crosses his arms and gives him this glance he's given his children when they did something wrong. He can also see Wayne is really trying to calm down, but every time he lifts his eyes up to Gordon he laughs again. Jim grins, shakes his head with resignation, sits on the chair and waits for Wayne to stop laughing.

"Remember that day when I crashed my car?" he says finally, his voice is hoarse and Gordon thinks everything is going to get just worse and worse. And the fact that Wayne is taking off his shoes is not helping, either. "You were there," Wayne adds and he nods carefully. "That was time when the Joker terrorized Gotham. Am I right?"

"I thought you didn't watch the news, Mr. Wayne," Gordon answers with a little smile, still curious as to what the hell Wayne is thinking about and what made him laugh so much.

"Well, it wasn't me who said that."

"Yeah," Jim nods. "And what does the Joker have in common with me?"

"Nothing, really. I just, well, you told me think about something funny. And please, don't tell me explain why the hell I thought about this. I'm too drunk for explanations," he says and Jim smirks. "Anyway, that's funny, I think. I like um…" Wayne hesitates. He looks really embarrassed, Gordon almost laughs. Who could suppose that Bruce Wayne can be embarrassed about anything in the world? But he doesn't laugh because Wayne looks also very serious now. Besides, his fingers travel nervously across the floor. The silence starts to be too long and too awkward. Gordon still looks at Wayne's fingers and Wayne still doesn't look at him. And doesn't talk.

"You were talking?" Gordon says and Wayne mummers something. "Come on, it can't be so bad as you think. I mean, you're Bruce Wayne, right?" he says and at the next moment he bites his mouth and swears not to drink ever again. Not even one beer.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wayne asks and looks at him. He still looks embarrassed but now he is also amused.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" Jim starts but Wayne interrupts.

"Of course, you did."

"Well… Yeah, I did."

"I knew it. You shouldn't drink so much," Wayne says and stands up taking off his jacket.

"And who's saying that, huh?" Gordon says sarcastically and Wayne laughs, putting his jacket on the mess on his desk. "And don't change the subject. What about this Joker's tie?"

"I never said it's about his tie," Wayne says looking at him suspiciously. Gordon blinks and wants to hit his head on the wall. No more alcohol. Never again.

"No? I could swear you did," he says, hoping Wayne is more drunk than he is, but it doesn't work.

"I didn't," Wayne crosses his arms. "Why do you think it's about his tie?"

"Mr. Wayne…"

"Call me Bruce. What's with this tie?"

"Well… I like, um…"

"… his tie," Wayne finishes his line and giggles.

"And I'm pretty sure you like it too," he says before he thinks what he's doing.

"Well, if you're so honest with me, I have to be with you, right?" Wayne asks and Jim just nods. "I think it's kind of hot," he says quickly and turns his eyes.

"Yeah, it is. And the way he fixes it," Gordon says looking at Wayne's tie.

"It's pretty similar with the way you fix your tie. Is it something to do with this?" Wayne asks sitting on the floor again. Gordon thinks, screw it.

"Huh? You were talking?" he asks and comes up to Wayne slowly.

"Yeah, I was asking… What are you doing?"

Gordon is on his knees, his fingers touch Wayne's tie slightly, the little finger slides down his skin. Wayne starts to breath harder, Jim smiles to himself.

"Trying to figure out how you fix your tie," he answers unknotting Wayne's tie slowly. Wayne closes his eyes, his head hits against the wall. "I think it's even hotter than Joker's," he is talking, and listening Wayne's heavy breath at the same time

"I… I could teach you," Wayne groans. Gordon can't stop himself anymore and kisses him. Wayne's mouth is warm and soft, he tastes the same whiskey he was drinking just a few seconds ago.

"It's not necessary," he says after he takes a breath, his fingers unbutton Wayne's shirt, touching every button slightly, one by one, as if to try to remember their shape forever. Wayne's eyes are still closed, his breath still ragged but he does nothing, he tells nothing, he just sits on the floor in his own office and lets Gordon do with him everything, anything he wants.

When he finishes with shirt, he takes off Wayne's socks.

*

Gordon never liked mornings and now he has one more reason for that. His head is one huge pain and for a while he's convinced someone has cut it off, but then somebody moans just next to his ear. If he can hear, it means he has ears. And if he has ears he must have a head.

"I'll never drink again, I swear," somebody says and Jim thinks he knows that voice. He tries to open his eyes but light is… Well, light is light and his eyelids are really heavy. "Do you want some coffee, Commissioner? Or maybe some aspirin?" This 'commissioner' sounds really familiar and he knows only one person who could say it in this way, a little sarcastic, a little dirty.

"Mr. Wayne?" he asks. Wayne laughs and then everything is back in place and he remembers everything. And he is sure he doesn't want to.

"Yeah, I know. I have no idea how the hell we ended up in bed. I don't remember that part," Wayne just says and Gordon finally opens his eyes.

"It was after your butler told us the second time that everybody left. Can I get coffee?"

"Sure," Wayne gets up and hands the best coffee he's ever had. "Hey, if you remember about us in bed, is it possible you remember how everything started? Because, you know, I really drank too much."

Gordon coughs. He really doesn't want to answer that, but Wayne looks at him his eyes still a little hazy, and waits, drinking his coffee little by little.

"Well, we had this conversation," he says hoping it'll be enough but apparently it isn't and Wayne wait for more details. "About a tie. The Joker's tie, specifically."

"Oh, right, I remember that," Wayne says and for a moment Gordon thinks Wayne is just pretending he doesn't remember, but then Wayne's face is burning red. It surprises him and there is an awkward silence in the room for a while, interrupted by Gordon's laugh. Wayne just raises his eyebrows and waits.

"Sorry, Mr. Wayne…" Jim starts but Wayne shakes his head.

"Bruce."

"What?"

"It's my name. I told you to call me Bruce. Yesterday. When we were talking about the Joker's tie. Which really is embarrassing. I mean, he killed so many people and we're talking about some stupid fetish for his stupid cheap tie."

"Are you sure it's cheap?" Gordon has no idea why he actually asks about it. God, he has no idea why they're have this conversation.

"Yes. Maybe his suit isn't but the tie definitely is."

"I should go home," Gordon says suddenly, putting his cup on the bedside table.

"Are you kidding me?" Wayne asks completely serious and Jim hesitates for a moment. "It's Christmas and you want to leave me here alone?"

"Well…"

"Besides," Wayne stands and goes to the wardrobe. When he returns, he holds a gray tie with a yellow pattern in his hand. He comes up to Jim and wreaths it around his neck. His long fingers touch Jim's chest slightly. He holds his breath. "I have to teach you fix ties like mine."


End file.
